Making a spectacle: When I fell down and literally hit the 'ooof'

The most distinctive thing was not the rarity or that it hadn't happened in decades.

The most distinctive thing wasn't the public setting or the embarrassment.

The most distinctive thing was the sound.

"Ooof."

I was walking a couple of weeks ago from the parking lot toward my local grocery store. My mind was presumably wandering – my workday was over and I was picking up some food to bring home to Mrs. Brad. Who knows what else I was thinking: about the weather, my workday, the Giants, Paul Anka songs. Who knows?

All of a sudden I was on my hands and knees, sprawled on the sidewalk. I had tripped over the curb and fell down in public for the first time in decades.

What?

I checked to ensure I was OK. Then I looked around to see if I'd made a spectacle. Then I realized the sound I'd made.

I heard myself proclaim "ooof!" as I fell, as if I were a cartoon character.

Ooof.

I immediately jumped up. Only one person seemed to notice – an older man who asked if I was OK.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I told him. "I don't know what happened."

I checked my wrists. Fine. My hands were slightly skinned and my knees were sore, but I was good.

Then I wondered if he heard me say "ooof."

We fall down a lot as kids. At least I did.

Skinned knees were common. As a youngster, I consistently picked gravel out of my hands and occasionally banged my elbows. Perhaps I was a clumsy child, but there was rarely a three-month period in the years before I turned 10 during which I didn't fall down.

I fell down at school. I fell down on the street. I fell down in my yard or while playing sports.

It stopped as an adult. I have fallen a few times, but generally while playing sports. I got knocked down a few other times, or stumbled and caught myself – but it was usually when something unusual happened.

Not this time.

I was walking through a parking lot. The sidewalk was marked. I'd entered the store many times before. I wasn't shuffling my feet.

I was going into the store to buy two or three items at the end of a workday and suddenly I was on the ground.

Having loudly said, "ooof!" Who says that?

The next day, my right knee was skinned, but my hands weren't sore and my wrists were fine. I had no injuries from my mishap, other than my pride.

It was a reminder of my clumsy childhood. One moment, you're walking along, enjoying a fine day. The next moment, you're splayed on the ground, embarrassed and afraid that you're hurt.

You've said "ooof." Someone asked if you're OK. You get up and insist things are OK before you start walking and confirm that you're indeed OK.

The bad news: I fell down in public.

The good news: As far as I can tell, no one noticed.

The likely news: Some people went home that day, telling their friends and family about the guy who fell down at the grocery store and shouted "ooof."

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

The fleeting popularity of women's names (or boring repetition of men's names)

Since I'm old, this isn't a surprise: The five most popular names for girls in the year I was born were Lisa, Mary, Susan, Karen and Linda.

That was how things were in a world where many TV shows were still in black-and-white, but things have changed.

Out of those five names, only Mary (which ranked 124th) was among the top 700 names for baby girls in 2020. Linda (825th)  and Karen (831st) were among the 1,000 most popular names for girls, while Lisa and Susan fell off the list.

I presume that a 20-year-old reader of this column (welcome, young person! Now turn down that music and stop looking at your phone!) would feel the same way about those facts as the 20-year-old version of me would have felt hearing an old person talk about Ethel, Maude and Gertrude being popular names when they were young: Who cares?

But my point isn't just about names becoming less popular. It isn't to make fun of unusual names are now high on the list.

My point is that women's names are much more mercurial than men's names. Way more.

Consider this: The year I was born, the top five boys names were Michael, David, John, James and Robert. In addition to being very vanilla (which, coming from someone named "Brad" is worth noting), those names maintained popularity over the years.

In 2020, they ranked 12th, 28th, 27th, sixth and 80th among boys names.

The top-five boy names from nearly 60 years ago are still among the top 100 (and all but one are among the top 30). The top five girls' names from the same year? One is 124th, two rank in the 800s and two dropped off the top-1,000 list.

In fact, of the top 20 girls' names from my birth year, only Elizabeth ranked among the top 100 in 2000. Eleven of the top 20 boys names remain in the top 100 and all of the top 20 remain in the top 600 names for 2020.

Boys names are stable. Girls names fluctuate dramatically.

Why is that?

By the way, I checked 1880, the first year for which the Social Security Administration provides this information and the boys' names were consistent with 1962 and 2020 to some extent. Among the top 20 girls names were Minnie, Ida, Bertha, Cora and Nellie. The top boys names are largely still popular, 140 years later.

Why did this happen? Why do women's names change so dramatically over the years, while many of the core boys' names remain the same over time?

Here are three theories:

a. Boys are often named after a father, grandfather or uncle, leading to a repeating of the same male names.

b. Girls are much more creative, so parents are more creative in picking girls names.

c. I have no idea.

And of course, I also did what you would do. For the year of my birth, Bradley (my full name) ranked 87th. Last year it ranked 272nd. Still a classic, right? (The first name "Mrs. Brad" didn't make it on either year's lists. Hmmmm.)

Oh, and a final request.

Will the last Lisa, Karen and Susan please turn out the lights when you leave?

If that's your name and you're reading this, you're a classic. But a classic like the dinosaurs, not like a classic car.

Don't get mad at me, Karen!

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Russian dream to clone Scythian warriors is terrifying, absurd

For those of us who grew up during the Cold War, this is par for the course for the "Evil Empire": A Russian plot to abuse science in an effort to control the world.

Really.

The background: During a recent session of the Russian Geographical Society (which probably doesn't have a cool magazine like our National Geographic Society), Russian Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu suggested using the DNA of 3,000-year-old Scythian warriors to create new people.

Read that again.

Sounds like a James Bond movie, right?

It might just be crazy enough to work. Or at least get a chance to work, since Shoigu is a close ally of Russian President Vladimir Putin and as you know, Russia is a Vlad, Vlad, Vlad, Vlad world.

Can you imagine if this works? Our finest military personnel might have to fight soldiers who were created with the DNA of warriors who lived 1,000 years before the time of Christ.

Seems scary.

It also seems like an insane idea for someone who is the defense minister for one of the world's military powers.

Here's what I know about the DNA donors, based on extensive research (Google): The Scythians were nomads who traveled Europe and Asia for about 700 years, building an empire that lasted for several centuries before fading out. Kind of an national version of the Rolling Stones.

Fast forward to about 20 years ago, when archeologists discovered the remains of Scythian soldiers in a burial mound in Siberia. It's almost always frozen there, so the DNA was preserved, like a popsicle in the back of your freezer.

Here's what Shoigu said to the people at the Russian Geographical Society: "Of course, we would like very much to find the organic matter and I believe you understand what would follow that. It would be possible to make something of it, if not Dolly the Sheep. In general, it will be very interesting.”

What? (First, literally "what?" Did the quote get run through a translating app, which made it seem so stilted? Secondly, figuratively "what?" What he's saying is insane.)

Shoigu is suggesting cloning. He's wants to bring back warriors who lived thousands of years ago, presumably to form an army. To conquer the world, if my childhood cartoons are accurate.

There are, of course, some significant problems with Shoigu's plan.

First of all, would it even work? Scientists cloned Dolly the sheep in 1996 after many attempts. There's probably been subsequent cloning since (can someone confirm?), but cloning a human from preserved DNA is another issue.

Secondly, even if Russian scientists could pull that off, they wouldn't create adult warriors. The cloned Scythians would arrive as babies. They would be raised by modern parents (or perhaps, if movies are any indication, by some evil/kind benefactor). It would take two decades before they could be soldiers, 20 years during which they would probably become fascinated by video games, music, pop culture and fast food.

It's hard to imagine all the potential issues they'd face. Would nature win out? Nurture?

The third big issue is that Shoigu thinks 3,000-year-old warriors would be a huge asset, despite the fact that Scythian military success was based on equestrian skills and crossbows.

OK, I feel better now. The crazy Russians may try to recreate an ancient group of warriors, but I'll take my chances with the American military against a bunch of cloned Russians who ride horses and shoot arrows.

And play video games. Right?

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.

Celebrating a uniquely jubilant July 4 . . . and more notes

This is a unique Independence Day. In the 245 years since 1776, we have rarely so appreciated the general feeling of freedom – not just being part of the world's greatest nation, but being free from so much fear, isolation and anxiety that we felt a year ago.

Oh, masks, too. We're generally free from masks.

Take a moment today to appreciate the difference from July 4, 2020. A year ago, we were in our first reopening (although we were really just ensuring the spread of the coronavirus, leading to further shutdowns in the fall). We were in the middle of the most divisive presidential election of our lifetimes. We were trying to navigate nationwide protests.

A year ago, it felt a little bit like the world was coming apart.

We're certainly not in a perfect scenario in 2021. The social and political divisions that made 2020 so nerve-wracking are still there, even if they're a little  under the surface. COVID-19 is in retreat, but not fully defeated. There are still plenty of things about which to be anxious–gas prices, social justice issues, whether the Giants can keep winning, etc.

But July 4, 2021, is so much better than July 4, 2020. And there's reason to think that the next six or nine or 12 months will be better than the previous ones.

Maybe I'm a Pollyanna, but this is the most optimistic July 4 I've experienced in a long time. Maybe in my lifetime.

Sometimes it takes a terrible year – arguably the most anxiety-creating year of our lives – to make us appreciate normalcy.

On to the topics du jour . . .

• • •

Clarification: When I said "Maybe I'm a Pollyanna," I was being rhetorical.

I'm definitely a Pollyanna.

• • •

Last reference to 2020: Remember when we used to complain about a year being terrible because a lot of celebrities died?

Remember 2016, when Prince, David Bowie, Nancy Reagan, Garry Shandling, Merle Haggard, Muhammed Ali, Gene Wilder, Arnold Palmer, Alan Thicke, George Michael, Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds all died? Remember how people consistently said that it was the worst year ever?

Now we have a different perspective.

I'm not glad that celebrities die, but 2020 changed that storyline, right? A famous person dying doesn't make a year bad for those of us who don't know them personally.

More than a half-million of our countrymen dying does that.

• • •

High five: Best songs with "America" in title (apropos to my age, they're all from the same era):

5. "We're an American Band," by Grand Funk Railroad. Includes the timeless lyric, "We're coming to your town, we'll help you party down."

4. "America" by Simon and Garfunkel. Paul Simon's lyrics about a young hitchhiking couple provide a melancholy look at America in the late 1960s.

3. "Young Americans," by David Bowie. This was Bowie's first American hit. Even better? Lyrics reference Barbie dolls, Richard Nixon and quote the Beatles' "A Day in the Life."

2. "Living in America," by James Brown. The anthem from "Rocky IV" was  Brown's last real hit song.

1."American Pie" by Don McLean: Arguably one of the 10 greatest songs of the past 80 years, even though it's overplayed on the radio.

• • •

Parting shot: For the first time in our marriage, Mrs. Brad has latched onto a sport without me.

The Tour de France is on TV for five hours a day, every day and she watches. Of course, I'm not home much of that, but it's kind of remarkable. She started watching bike racing last fall during the pandemic and now is interested in three-week race across Western Europe. Every day she tells me about athletes I don't know.

Now I know how she's felt for 36 years.

Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.